After the shower, he quickly dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt while she messed with her already perfect face. “Meet you downstairs.” Pressing closer for a kiss, he breathed her in. Woman, spice, and sweetness.
Then, to prevent himself from taking her back to bed, he hustled through the apartment and jogged down the stairs to the offices, whistling a Christmas tune. It was the only happy tune he knew.
Tension hit him the second he opened the door from the stairwell.
“God fucking damn it,” Heath bellowed.
Ryker stiffened and then hurried to Heath’s office, his body going on alert. Heath had thrown a paperweight across the room, and it hung drunkenly from the windowsill. “What?” Ryker asked, just as Denver caught up from his office.
Heath vibrated in place. “The Copper Killer got Agent Jackson. He got through the FBI to Jackson.”
Ryker rocked back on his heels. Shock stilled him. He’d been focused on Zara’s problems and hadn’t figured Jackson was really in danger. How could this happen? “When?”
Denver pivoted and ran back toward the better computer system in his office.
“Late last night,” Heath snarled, primal fury in his eyes. “I just intercepted an FBI e-mail about it—they’re keeping it quiet for now.”
“That’s good.” Ryker glanced at the window. God, Heath would lose his fucking mind. The guy had made a connection with Jackson and seemed to really like the agent.
Lightning zigzagged outside, and snow pelted down along with freezing rain. “The case just became our number one priority.” He’d have to get Zara out of town for now and then go chase the killer and cover his brother’s back. “Special Agent Jackson lived in Snowville?” There was an FBI satellite office in the large Washington State town.
“Yes.” Heath ripped open a desk drawer and rummaged, yanking out a wad of cash.
Ryker held up a hand, trying to calm him when all he wanted to do was grab a gun and go hunting. “The guy won’t be in Snowville any longer.”
“Don’t care. It’s a place to start.” Heath strode around the desk, his brown hair ruffled and his eyes pissed.
Denver caught him at the doorway. “Airport and interstate are closed. Storm’s a bastard.”
Heath paused. “Then we get on computers and the phone.” He turned back. “The second something is open, I’m going.”
“We’re going,” Ryker corrected. He glanced at his watch. “Right now I’ll take Zara to get her stuff, and then I need a safe house for her and Grams while we go after this guy. We’ll put Greg with them.”
“I’ll get on it,” Denver said, his voice and hands steady for the first time in too long.
“Thanks.” Now all Ryker had to do was convince Zara to go along with his plan.
Chapter
29
Zara smoothed down her jeans and squinted to see through the windshield. Snow piled up so quickly, the wipers barely made a dent. “Maybe we should’ve waited.”
Ryker’s hold remained relaxed and sure on the steering wheel. “We need to take care of this before Heath and I head out on the serial killer case.”
Zara nodded. How crazy was the entire situation? “Shouldn’t you let the FBI handle it?”
“Yeah, because they’ve handled it well so far.” Sarcasm lowered his voice. He shook his head and swerved around a pile of ice. “I need you and Grams to hunker down in a safe house until we get back.”
“The police won’t like that,” she murmured.
“Doesn’t matter. You haven’t been arrested, and you don’t have to stay here. It’s time for a little vacation.” Ryker came to a stop in her driveway, sliding the last few feet on the snow-covered ice. “We need to hurry, sweetheart.”
Zara nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She slid from the truck and shut the door. Cold instantly snapped against her face, and she ducked her face down under her scarf before turning and jogging through the snow to her neighbor’s door. Mrs. Ogleby was always up by early morning, so Zara knocked briskly.
The door opened, and the elderly lady peered out. “Goodness. Come in.”
Zara stepped inside, careful to keep her boots on the tile. Ferocious heat slammed into her. “Morning. I came for my mail?”
Mrs. Ogleby nodded and smoothed back her curly white hair. “Were you at your house last night? I could’ve sworn I saw lights.”
Zara paused, and her heart rate picked up. “No. I stayed with a friend.”
Mrs. Ogleby leaned to peer past her flimsy red curtains. “Is that your friend, dear? The hot pants in the truck?”
Zara bit her lip. “Yes. Hot Pants is my friend.”
“Very nice.” Mrs. Ogleby turned and grabbed several envelopes and a small package. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Zara glanced toward the truck. “Are you sure there were lights at my place?”
Mrs. Ogleby nodded vigorously. “Yep.”
“Thank you.” Zara turned and stepped back outside. Had the men come back to her place? If so, why? What in the world did they want with her? She slipped on the walk and quickly righted herself before plowing through the swirling snow and reaching the truck. She was breathless when she finally jumped in and closed the door.